


darkest night

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: Whatever Else Comes AU [5]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21912136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: “It’s just some cursed jewel in a cave, practically a milk run for this family,” Della said, forcing her voice to sound as normal as possible. “This won’t be like Magica. And it won’t be the Spear of Selene.”
Relationships: Della Duck & Dewey Duck & Donald Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Scrooge McDuck & Webby Vanderquack
Series: Whatever Else Comes AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547776
Comments: 7
Kudos: 149





	darkest night

**Author's Note:**

> As noted in the tags, warning for temporary/apparent character deaths (several) in this one. Everybody's okay in the end, I promise.
> 
> I have mixed feelings about this one, it took me a long time and I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with how it turned out as compared with my original vision, but it's Done and that's what really matters.

“ – No really, hear me out!”

“It’s not gonna happen, Dell.”

Della caught Donald by the wrist, forcing him to turn back toward her. “Come on, how long has it been – fifteen years? Sixteen?”

“What’s that make us?” Donald asked, frowning.

“Twenty-one.”

“Yeah,” said Donald, “yeah, that sounds about right. When I swore off of adventuring for good.”

He started walking away again. She called after him, her feet still planted. “You go with the kids.”

“It’s not like that,” Donald said, steps faltering.

“Tell me what it’s like, then,” replied Della. She crossed her arms. “You’ll go for the kids, for Scrooge, not for me?”

“I go,” Donald said carefully, “because I don’t trust Scrooge. Not fully.”

“We never died,” Della said.

“Do you even realize how low a bar that is?” He looked back at her, over his shoulder. “And it’s not even true.”

“I didn’t die.”

“Except you did.” Donald turned away again, with such a deeply pained sigh that Della couldn’t bring herself to say anything. “You might not have literally died, but we thought you were dead for so long – and you _could_ have died. You should have. It is nothing short of a God-given miracle that you survived, and I am _not_ watching that happen to my kids.”

“Donald –“

“I lost you once already, Dell,” he said. He still wasn’t looking at her. “I’ve _almost_ lost you a hundred times. You can’t guarantee that if I go with you I won’t have to watch you die again.”

“It’s just some cursed jewel in a cave, practically a milk run for this family,” Della said, forcing her voice to sound as normal as possible. “This won’t be like Magica. And it won’t be the Spear of Selene.”

“Della –“

“ _Donald_ ,” she said, pleading. “Come on, I need this. The kids still barely trust me, Scrooge still treats me like a dumb kid half the time, I’m still trying to get my feet under me again. The only thing I know how to do is adventure; _please_ , just let me have this one single day to feel normal again.”

Donald sighed again, glancing back at her. “Okay.”

\--

Dewey was, as usual, miles ahead of the rest of the group. Louie could barely even see him, but he heard Dad and Aunt Della and Uncle Scrooge shouting after him. He couldn’t make anything distinct out; all he knew was that one moment there was shouting and the next a blast threw him back against the wall, and another wall was closing in ahead of him.

When the rock wall had fallen into place with a heavy thud, Louie realized that he was alone.

Cut off.

He threw himself at the wall, pounding on it with his fists until they hurt. “Huey! Webby! Uncle Scrooge!”

He fell to his knees. “Dad?”

He could hear faint voices through the rock wall.

_“Do we have everyone?”_

_“Almost. We lost Louie.”_

_“Ugh, of course. He can’t ever keep up.”_

_“We can just leave him behind and maybe swing back around for him later. He’ll probably be happy he doesn’t have to do any of the hard part.”_

Louie pressed his ear closer to the rock as the voices faded away, waiting, _hoping_ to hear Dad say something. Anything.

To correct Aunt Dell, to tell her that they should, in fact, come back for Louie now.

To scold Webby for her tone.

To tell any of them, _any of them_ , that Louie was worth saving.

But Dad didn’t say anything, and then they were too far away for Louie to hear anything.

Louie curled in on himself, tears rolling down his cheeks. The dark felt like it was closing in on him, and he was alone, and no one even wanted to come back for him.

He thought he felt a small hand close around his wrist, and he almost jumped out of his skin. He looked all around him, the single torch on the wall behind him flickering weakly but not revealing anyone else on his side of the cave.

But the feeling came again; at first there was a tentative brush of fingers against feathers, then an invisible hand latched onto his arm. He tried to pull away again, but this time it didn’t release. Instead, whatever was holding him tugged him to his feet - and toward a small gap in the wall that separated Louie from his family.

\--

Webby woke up next to Louie on the floor. He either hadn’t been knocked out by the blast or had woken up first, because he was sitting up, crying, his eyes darting around like he was looking for something.

She thought it’d be a relief to him when she reached for his hand, as he seemed not to have seen her awake yet, but he flinched away violently.

“Louie?” she said gently. 

He didn’t respond. He was looking around again, a little more frantically. His eyes slid right across her like she wasn’t there.

“Louie, can you hear me?” Nothing. “We’ve got to get moving, we’ve got to find the others.”

Still nothing.

She reached for him again, her fingertips just grazing his forearm at first before she firmly gripped his wrist. He tried to pull it back again, but this time Webby was ready. She didn’t let go.

She shifted back and pulled herself into a standing position, dragging Louie up with her. 

She thought she heard Huey’s voice in the distance, muffled by something, and led the unseeing Louie toward it.

—

Huey was blown back by the magical explosion or whatever it was Dewey had set off, but as he started to try to move back toward the family, a bunch of loose rock cascaded down between him and the main chamber.

He heard indistinct voices through the loose pile of stones, just bits of conversation. Louie was shouting something, he sounded like he was crying. Dad sounded nearby; he was calling Aunt Della’s name. He couldn’t hear Uncle Scrooge or Aunt Della or Webby or Dewey, which was distressing.

“Dad?” he called. If Huey could hear them, the others should be able to hear him, right? “Louie?”

No response.

He pulled at a rock, hoping to open a small hole that would allow him to see out and be seen, but as he did other rocks shifted into its place. The movement was accompanied by a threatening rumble, like the rock around him wasn’t quite stable.

Best to leave it be then.

He went back to shouting instead, hoping that maybe from the other side they’d be able to pick through to him.

He hated being stuck like this; he was supposed to be the competent one, the one who always knew how to work his way out of a situation, but his hat and his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook were on the other side of the rocks and he felt completely out of his depth.

Huey had almost given up when he heard rocks shifting on the other side of the pile.

\--

“Louie, come on, I need you to help me,” Webby pleaded, carefully testing each stone before she moved it. “I can’t do this by myself.”

Louie didn’t respond, because Louie still couldn’t hear her.

Webby made a small sound of frustration and pushed on.

\--

Dewey had made worse decisions in his life.

He was… almost sure of that.

But still, being trapped away from the family was not the best situation he’d ever ended up in. He threw the stupid glowing magic whatever-the-hell at the wall. It bounced off, completely undamaged. Picking up the artifact hadn’t actually been what set off the traps anyway; he’d stepped on a pressure plate as he approached. One way or another, he was alone, all because he couldn’t slow down enough to plan an approach. Louie must be furious with him.

He peeked through the split in the stone wall. He could see movement on the other side, but he couldn’t really hear anything.

The split in the rock looked big enough that he might actually be able to wriggle out through it if he moved just so –

He got about halfway out and then couldn’t go any further in either direction.

\--

Donald rolled his shoulders back, shaking off the grogginess of being knocked out, however briefly. He looked around him.

Scrooge was nowhere to be seen.

Dewey was caught between two large rocks, like maybe he’d been trying to squeeze between them and gotten stuck. He wasn’t conscious. Donald tried not to notice how still he was.

Louie and Webby were on the ground next to a large pile of loose rocks, and another small hand – _Huey_ – was exposed through a gap, though the rest of him was somewhere in the rock fall.

It was a mistake to let them go on adventures with Scrooge. One way or another, they were always going to end up here, weren’t they? They’d skirted death for so long, just by chance, by luck, by happenstance.

It was always going to catch up with them in the end. Just like it caugh up with –

Donald let out a choked sound as his eyes fell on his sister. She was right next to him, a trickle of blood running from a gash on her temple. Fucking _fuck_ , she just got home. She survived the impossible only for a “milk run” adventure to leave her cold on the floor.

He pulled her into his arms, squeezing his eyes shut and willing it all to have been his imagination. Tears ran down his cheeks, rolling off of his beak and dripping onto his sister’s limp form.

\--

“Donald?” Webby said, panic seeping into her voice now. He was holding Della, shaking with sobs. “ _Dad?_ Can you hear me?”

\--

Scrooge knew as he was thrown into the wall that Dewey had triggered – entirely by accident – the one protection on this artifact that he’d been hoping the most to avoid.

And so as he carefully picked his way through rubble back toward the rest of the family, he tried to remind himself that it was all his imagination; the curse would make him see his own fears made real. Still, nothing could prepare himself for seeing the children like this.

He could barely see Huey, but Louie and Webby were crumpled at the bottom of the rock pile that seemed to have engulfed him, and Dewey was caught between two larger stones near the artifact’s pedestal.

And Donald and Della –

 _It’s not real_ , he told himself, _none of it’s real_.

But his knees gave out as he approached the twins. Donald was holding his sister, but his grip on her was loose. One of arms was wrapped around her, the other holding her hand over her chest. He was slumped over her, eyes open and glassy and fixed in the direction of the kids.

 _It’s not real_.

_It’s not real._

_It’s not real_.

But oh, did it feel like it was.

\--

Della woke up in Penumbra’s quarters on the moon.

“No, no, no!” She stumbled to her feet, running out the door into the streets of Tranquility. She’d _just_ been with the kids. She’d finally convinced Donald to come out with her on one last adventure. And then Dewey had run ahead and she’d been here again.

It _couldn’t_ have just been a dream; it had all felt so real.

She kicked a wall. This couldn’t be happening.

“Attacking my residence will accomplish nothing, Earther,” Penumbra’s voice said from somewhere behind Della.

She whipped around, searching Penny’s face for any explanation of what was going on. “Penny, am I glad to see you. What –“

“ _Penumbra_ ,” she corrected instantly. “And I cannot return the sentiment, as I have never been glad to see you.”

All the air – or whatever it was she was breathing – left Della’s lungs.

None of it was real.

\--

It was Scrooge who came to his senses first. Webby had worked Huey out from behind his pile of rocks, had helped pull Dewey out of the spot he’d wedged himself into, but it still seemed that they, like Louie, couldn’t see or hear her.

She was still kneeling next to Donald and Della, in tears as she tried to get through to them, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Scrooge had heard her.

She pushed up to her feet and into his arms, into the tightest hug Scrooge had ever given her.

“What do you see, lass?” he asked.

“Everything,” she said. “Everyone just the way they are, only they can’t see me.”

“Oh, Webby.” He squeezed her tighter still. “I see you.”

Together, they broke the others out of their visions one by one. Scrooge told Webby that he’d been able to break through his own because he _knew_ that it was his imagination, and that it would be harder to free the others.

Huey came out of it first. Webby found his hat and Junior Woodchuck Guidebook in the rubble and pressed them into his hands, whispering, “Come _on_ , Huey.” And he blinked a few times, shaking his head a little.

Then his eyes met Webby’s.

He helped them wake Dewey very practically – he threw his hat at him. It startled him enough that he came back to his senses and pulled all three of his siblings into a tight hug.

Louie, who still didn’t seem to be able to see or hear any of them, was understandably a little freaked out by this. Scrooge sat down next to the twins while Huey, Dewey, and Webby worked on getting through to Louie.

“Lou-Lou, I know you like to take your own time, but you’d be a lot less scared if you shook this thing off,” Dewey said.

Huey half laughed. “Yeah, Lou, get it together.”

Somehow, miraculously, it was Webby who got through to him. Webby, who’d been leading him all this time with no response, let out this small, cracked, “ _Louie_.” And he reached out for her.

The four of them, with Scrooge’s help, turned to Donald and Della.

“I’ve been talking to them,” Scrooge said, squeezing Della’s shoulder, “but they’re both quite lost.”

\--

Donald’s eyes were squeezed shut tight as he clutched his sister’s body. He couldn’t bear to look at her, and even more he couldn’t bear to look at his children.

He could almost hear their voices calling out to him.

He felt something bump his shoulder, and he looked up instinctively – into the eyes of his uncle.

And Scrooge said, “They’re alright, Donald.”

And Donald looked beyond him, to where Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby sat in a tangle of limbs, bruised and crying but altogether _alive_ and that was what mattered.

He looked down at Della, and nothing had changed but the slow rise and fall of her chest.

She was alive, but still just a limp weight in his arms.

\--

Della had climbed to the top of the ridge at the edge of the city, to a place where she had a view of the Earth in the far, far distance.

It had all felt so real.

How could it not have been real?

\--

Scrooge picked Della up out of her brother’s arms, and the kids pulled Donald to his feet.

They abandoned the artifact. The curse wasn’t worth it.

All together, very slowly, they worked their way back out through the cave system. Della started to stir almost all the way back to the Sun Chaser where, thankfully, Launchpad was waiting.

Donald was unbelievably grateful that Launchpad had flown this trip, and even more so that he’d gotten a call from Drake and had to beg off of actually accompanying them on their adventure. Lord knows where they would’ve been if both of their pilots were out of commission.

Della squinted up at Donald as they settled in on the plane. “Are you real?”

He swept her hair away from her eyes. “Yeah, Dell-bell. I’m real.”

\--

They arrived home just after dawn. That day, everyone clung a little tighter to each other than usual, no one wanted to stray far from home.

Della found Donald perched on a window seat, looking out over the grounds.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like this.”

“We never do.”

“I was – I thought I was back on the moon. It was like I never came home.”

“You were dead.”

Della let out a long, slow breath. She crawled onto the window seat with him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“That wasn’t what I signed up for, Dell,” Donald said. “I don’t know if I can do this again. Not like the old days.”

“Yeah,” Della replied. “Yeah, I don’t blame you.”

There was a tap on the doorframe behind them and the twins turned around. The kids stood in the doorway, all hanging onto each other like they couldn’t bear to lose contact.

“You’re never gonna go on another adventure again, are you, Dad?” Dewey asked quietly.

Donald opened his arms for a hug, and felt Della do the same next to him. In an instant they were both covered in ducklings. “I will go wherever I need to go to look out for you guys, you hear me? If you want me out in the world with you, I’ll go.”

“I think we’re off adventure for a little while, too.” Huey’s voice was small, barely audible, but Donald caught it. He squeezed his oldest son, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before doing the same to Webby.

“That was scary,” Louie said into Della’s shoulder. “We do too much scary shit, guys.”

“We can work on it,” said Della. She tightened her grip on Louie and Dewey. “Next time – next time it won’t be like that.”

They stayed there for a few hours, until the sun had set and it was time to send the kids to bed. The twins carried Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Webby to their rooms and tucked them in with kisses and whispered endearments, then went upstairs to the bedroom they’d shared growing up and fell asleep to the sounds of each other’s slow breathing across the room, hoping that tomorrow the world would right itself and they’d be able to move on.


End file.
